


The Ways We Make It Through

by orphan_account



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: D/s relationship, Death Cure spoilers if you squint kind of not really but hey, M/M, Non-Explicit, pre-thomas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 20:56:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2596142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They  know it’s coming on those long days when Newt’s eyes glaze over. Those days, those weeks where Newt isn’t feeling like doing too much of anything, where he’s getting lazy in the mindnumbing work, those times when he needs a little extra push to keep on muddling through the endless days. </p><p>And, on those nights, Alby pulls him away early.</p><p> </p><p>  <b> Nalby D/S Scenario </b></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ways We Make It Through

They know it’s coming on those long days when Newt’s eyes glaze over. Those days, those weeks where Newt isn’t feeling like doing too much of anything, where he’s getting lazy in the mindnumbing work, those times when he needs a little extra push to keep on muddling through the endless days.

And, on those nights, Alby pulls him away early. Depending on how bad Newt  is, sometimes even before the Runners emerge from the Map Room. He’ll pull Newt away early, grabbing him by the wrist and leading him across the Glade. But they’re not there yet.

They get there when they make it through the doorway in their room at the Homestead. Perhaps it’s through conditioning, but the dynamic shifts, and Alby drops Newt’s hand in the middle of the room, and locks his eyes on his friend with his chin pointed upwards.

Newt’s eyes are still glassy, but not quite like they were before, and he relishes the way his stomach lurches, the first blow of many to knock the numbness away. In ten minutes he won’t be numb anymore, and he won’t have to deal with any of it -- he’ll allow all control to sift through Alby’s fingers. It’s almost route by now, but that doesn’t make him tremble any less fiercely.

The pinpricks break out, all over his belly and legs, when Alby speaks, peeling back the layers of work and hopelessness. Sliding into his role for the next hour or so with such ease it’s almost erotic in itself.

“On your knees.”

Newt rolls over his ankles, falls to his knees with such a pronounced thud that if anyone were in the Homestead, they would’ve been sure to hear it rattling through the ceiling.

“Crawl.” Alby’s barely moving, not leaning one way or another, but standing hovering about him, tall as the bloody Maze walls, entirely unphased.

But Newt hesitates. He knows he isn’t supposed to speak - they’ve done this enough times that he knows the perimeter without having to be told. He breathes shakily. “Where to?”

The ball of Alby’s foot slams down on the slope of Newt’s shoulder, knocking him backwards. He crouches down over Newt, heels on either side of his ribs. “Did I say you could ask me questions?”

Newt shakes his head, tongue darting out over his lip.

“Why should I give you what you want,” Alby says, voice a low trembling growl, pupils entirely black and shimmering, “If you can’t obey _one_ simple order?”

Pressing his lips together, for fear of a smart-arse comment slipping out, Newt arcs his spine up without meaning to.

“You aren’t behaving. Hold still,” Alby’s hand fans out on his chest and he slits his eyes. He abandons Newt’s chest and toggles the clasp on his belt. “And remember you get what you deserve.”

Newt shivers.

 

* * *

  
  


Hands on his face. That’s the first thing to come back to Newt when he’s wrenched out from the blinding white light scattering his vision when his hips stuttered out against the cutting restraint on his arms. But Alby’s there when his eyes flutter open, and the whole world is in waves, he doesn’t know whether he’s strung up on a wall or on the floor or even splayed on a bed. He’s floating out from subspace, and the first thing to come clearly to him is Alby’s face, etched in some sort of concern through the sweat. He looks unmade. He’s petting the sides of Newt’s face, using his thumb to chip off the drying come from a trembling chin.

His voice is soft now. “Newt?”

Newt nods to confirm the unasked question- yes he’s here, yes he’s fine. The game is over, Newt can speak without breaking a rule, but he’s too exhausted to move his tongue.

Alby gives a little smile, warm hands cupped and soft on Newt’s forearms as he unties the knots. “You did great, Newt.”

Newt can still barely make one syllable from the other, but the tone is unmistakable, and he allows his head to slide lazily onto a hot shoulder, basking in the residual high lurking behind.

Alby rubs at the marks left by the restraints with one hand, kissing Newt’s wrists and holding him close to his chest with the other rubbing calming circles into his back, heartbeats mingling and slowing down at a similar rate. He continues: “Let me know you’re okay. Newt?”

“Yeah.” He’s exhausted and the glow is slowing, but he hasn’t felt so alive in a long time. “‘M fine.”

He can feel Alby smiling against his hair, can hear the sigh of relief. “You did perfect, you know. Buggin’ beautiful and everything."

Newt chokes out an exhausted laugh, pretends he doesn’t need to hear this. But Alby knows better. Once, he took Newt’s shrugging to truth and left the praise out - simply petting and kissing sweetly. When they talked about it afterwards, Newt had to swallow his pride and admit how much he needed the words. Alby had been incredibly vocal ever since.

They’ll talk it over later. Relay what worked and what didn’t, communicate over shucking supper as though it’s a business meeting with their shoulders touching and lazily picking off each other’s plates. The other Gladers will roll their eyes but won’t try to join in the conversation. They don’t know what it’s about, but there’s an intimacy in the conversations that makes it seem harmful to intrude.

But, for now, Alby sings Newt’s praises and wraps him up in a warm towel, scrubs off sweat and come that’s making his skin sticky and cold. He kisses Newt’s forehead and smiles at him warmly.

Newt blinks a few times more, and once he opens his eyes, they aren’t glassy, and for now, between loving words and warm kisses pressed to purple bruises, he’s all right. 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this was mostly just a practice run in writing D/S relationships. I'd like to do more with Nalby in this situation in the future, but I felt like I needed to try my hand at it first. So...thoughts? 
> 
> Thanks for reading. ;)


End file.
